Red Glass
by DarkHairedVeela
Summary: Companion piece to Red Lipstick. Longshot's and Smellerbee's story. Can be read alone. . ."He wore a farmer's hat and a solemn expression. She would probably give him anything and everything he asked for as long as he didn't become faceless."


Her hair had used to be beautiful. Before the Fire Nation came it was long and soft even in her youth. There were also some curls at the ends. She loved her hair. It had been the best thing about her. And now it was gone.

Smellerbee kicked at the water but her reflection kept coming back. Her long locks were gone—leaving behind coarse strands that ended in charred, broken bits. Her parents had been killed at the hands of a faceless fire bender. His mask looked like a skull, dispelling anything human. The monster had tried to kill her too. He had grabbed her from behind, he was about to twist her neck when she struggled away enough for him to just grab her hair. Smellerbee pulled and yank away from him as much as she could but to no avail. A horrible smell reached her nose just as a shard of glass inches from her foot caught her attention. Somehow she managed to pick up the shard. Without giving it much thought she jammed it under the fire benders armpit—the only part of him that wasn't protected by armor. That was when she ran. She didn't look at her burnt, dead parents. There wasn't any time. She dodged the fires and she dodged the dying and she dodged the soldiers. The faceless monsters. Her hair was on fire. The head had begun to like at her back and scalp. She screamed.

Luckily she had found the little stream outside her village without difficulty. Her hair had slowly chipped away after she had jumped into the creek. She watched with horror as bits of black hair floated away with the current until it finally stopped just above her ears. Without her beautiful hair she was ugly. She began to cry, dirty ash mixing with her tears.

A twig snapped behind her. She jumped back into the stream but when she realized it was only a boy a little older than her she resurfaced. He wore a farmer's hat and a solemn expression. She would probably give him anything and everything he asked for as long as he didn't become faceless. The sight of him brought her back to tears. It became hard to breathe she was crying so much. Smellerbee covered her mouth as she tried to inflate her lungs. Once she was able to breathe again she spoke. "They—they burnt my hair. It's not pretty anymore! They killed my parents!" Smellerbee sobbed pushing herself out of the stream. The boy stood looking down at her, still with that solemn expression. "I'm more upset about my dead hair than I am about my dead parents," she whispered, horrified because it was true.

The boy's eyebrow raised and his head cocked to the side. He gestured for her to stand, when she did he pushed on her shoulders so she stood straight. Then he reached for her wrists and brought them up so that she made a "T" with her body. He tapped his pinky under her chin to bring her head up. Her tears came to a halt. He was starring at her, evaluating her. He walked around her. She had to appear strong, even if he had already seen her at her weakest. And ugliest.

Somehow, Smellerbee knew that the boy was there to help her. He wasn't a faceless monster like the man who had tried to kill her.

The soft crunch of his feet on the brooks gravely stones paused. He had seen something that made him falter but he was still behind her so she couldn't know what it was. When he came back into view his head was bowed, looking at a piece of red glass in his hands. It took Smellerbee a moment to realize that the glass wasn't red, but bloody. It was the weapon she had used to free herself from the faceless monster. She hadn't realized that she had brought it with her.

The boy seemed to understand exactly what she had used it for, as if he had been there. He looked up from the glass, his mouth still indifferent but his eyes were dancing with amusement. Smellerbee brought her arms down when he pushed the shard towards her. It felt right in her hands. A small weapon.

The boy used the point of his arrow, and he had many along with a bow, and began to write something into the gravel. L O N G S H O T.

She smiled, looking up at him. Understanding. "Smellerbee."


End file.
